


Dark She Went Under The Lonely Night

by koreanfriedchicken



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, F/M, I hope this is original, Major Original Character(s), Minor Original Character(s), Original Character(s), Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-08-27 19:03:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16708252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koreanfriedchicken/pseuds/koreanfriedchicken
Summary: After Aemilia’s brother dies in the mission to retake Wall Maria in 846, she becomes a journalist, following her brother in his footsteps, to discover whatever secrets the government wants to hide from the public. However, it turns out her brother held secrets too, which lead her to Erwin Smith, Commander of the Scouting Legion. The more she digs, the more secrets come up.





	1. Prologue: Hades

_846: The Mission to Reclaim Wall Maria._

Guttural screams filled the battlefield, accompanied by actual guts flying around, painting the terrain outside Wall Rose with red everywhere the Commander of the Scouting Legion looked. Civilians were dying all around him: here he saw one squatted like a bug under a titan’s foot, there another snatched away to become a titan’s afternoon snack. There his eyes caught someone trying to defend himself with a pitchfork in futile attempts, while someone else beside him on the ground desperately tried to keep his intestines from falling out – holding on to life in vain.

Many others tried to run – and who could blame them – but where could they go? They were trapped out here and there was no escape, no safe harbor. Especially not afoot. They didn’t stand a chance against the titans. Untrained, inexperienced – they were but mere presents to Hades himself. The only ones who even remotely stood a chance were the Scouts due to their vertical maneuvering gear and experience with titans, but even they were easy to fall prey to the monsters.

 _How many of them are left?_ His eyes tried to find his men as he sat in a tree, catching his breath.

He knew this was how the government had planned it, and a wave of nausea struck him, like that very first time he went beyond the Walls as a new Scout, witnessing for the first time in his Scouting career the massacre the monsters could cause. Now again, men were slaughtered left and right and he couldn’t do much about it, because there were simply too many helpless and too few capable of helping. His hands clenched painfully hard around the handles of his equipment. This was no time to give way to rumination.

He refocused on the situation at hand, forcing his thoughts away as he landed onto a titan’s neck, cutting its nape from its huge frame. In front of him he saw squad-leader Mike do the same, hot blood spurting out in all directions before evaporating.

Of course he hadn’t agreed with this operation though. He knew it would be a damn suicide mission. But, if he had refused, he would have been punished for opposing a royal decision – possibly with death – and the mission would still be launched without him. At least now, he could try – _though why?_ – to save as many civilians as he could, though he soon found this was futile too.

Still, he ordered his men to keep fighting, even after he momentarily locked eyes with Humanity’s Strongest soldier Levi, whose gaze told him this was pointless. The commander shot him a look back, one that said they were not giving up. Just, not yet. He watched the soldier return a nod in reluctant affirmation before he used his gear to latch himself onto another titan to slice out its nape in a trademark move of his.

Even squad-leader Hange, who usually was – oddly – excited for expeditions beyond the walls with the prospect of possibly capturing a titan for experiments, was now grimly swinging from tree to titan, to tree to titan, raining down assaults without any expression of excitement, barely having time to swipe her goggles clean in between attacks.

The commander himself looked down from a tree, trying to reassess the situation.

Down there he saw a boy, unarmed, unskilled, perhaps at the age of 12, his life barely even begun – he needed to get away from there. The commander rushed down to swoop him off the ground, holding him with one strong arm to get him away of an incoming hungry titan.

He set the boy down on top of a tree – high, away from the titans’ reach. He gave the boy a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder, before turning back to the main battle field.

Just as he turned, an ear-piercing scream filled his ears, and when he looked back over his shoulder, he saw that same boy he thought he had rescued moments ago being torn in half by two titans fighting over his body, somehow having managed to shake him out of the tree.

His stomach tightened so much he was sure he was going to throw up this time, but his duty as commander came first, so he swallowed with difficulty and when he met Levi’s eyes again, who just landed in a tree near him, he finally decided it needed to stop and he ordered the retreat.

“Retreat! All men retreat!”

 _All men_. To whom was he calling? Because though about two dozen of his own Legion had survived, it seemed there were less than two hundred survived out of the 250.000 civilian men and women sent in total. A shameless genocide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suddenly felt like adding a prologue lol.
> 
> I'm not sure if Erwin actually accompanied the mission to reclaim Wall Maria in 846 (that first attempt which was a concealed genocide), but I do know a number of Scouts were present, so I think he might have. Either way, this is fanfiction after all, so this is my interpretation of what Erwin would have felt during that mission.
> 
> It seems a lot of people think Erwin is a cold, heartless commander, since he is portrayed stoically and "leads many men to death". However, I feel that especially in the manga we see Erwin question himself, and he is not at all without emotion. I think that he just conceals his emotions / concerns and we don't get to see it. However, during this mission where there were nearly 250.000 civilians - not soldiers - who were just left to their bleak fate, and butchered, I think it might have greatly disturbed him - hence the nausea and conflict within him. So, hopefully my interpretation in this short prologue is convincing :)


	2. The Monument

Aemilia absentmindedly scooped up some oatmeal before dropping it again, watching how it fell from her spoon back into her bowl with a soft plop. She had taken five bites before her stomach could take no more. She wasn’t hungry. Not today, nor yesterday and all the days before for the past half year. Time heals all wounds, they say, but instead, Aemilia found herself more and more consumed by anger as time went by, thinking to herself that those who believe in that banal saying probably haven’t experienced losing a loved one in a genocide.

Her childhood friend Jade eyed her from across the table, observing her appearance. She noticed her dress was at least a size too big, hanging loosely from her shoulders – she had lost weight, again. Her brown hair seemed dull as well, having lost its usual radiance.

“I apologize, I don’t mean to disrespect your cooking. I’m just not that hungry,” Aemilia spoke when she felt Jade’s eyes on her, putting her spoon down.

“I know,” she replied, eyes shifting to her friend’s bony fingers at the soft clink of the silver utensil hitting the bowl, staring at them before looking back up at her friend’s tired face.

“Amy, I can still come with you if you like. I won’t open the bar until 15:00, we’d be back before that,” Jade offered, at whose home she had stayed last night, since it was closer than her own to the location of the new monument that would be revealed today in Trost District, which in turn was closest to Shiganshina District where Wall Maria had been breached six months ago.

Aemilia lifted her eyes to look at the dark-haired female opposite from her.

“Thank you, Jade, but I have to do this alone. Besides, it’s a job assignment.”

“I still think it’s cruel your boss requested specifically you to write a report on the ceremony.”

Aemilia shrugged. “He doesn’t know.”

“You didn’t tell him?”

“It’s not his business. Moreover, I’m still a trainee, I’m not in a position to complain or make requests,” Aemilia responded matter-of-factly.

“You can’t expect people to understand if you don’t share anything,” Jade spoke, her green eyes holding Aemilia’s hazel pair, before the latter broke the eye-contact to glance at her pocket watch.

“Perhaps…Either way, it doesn’t matter at this point,” Aemilia replied as she stood up from her chair. The scraping of the chair across the tiled floor muffled Jade’s sigh, but it did not go unnoticed by Aemilia. She wondered if – or when – her best friend’s patience would run out.

“Thank you for allowing me to stay at your place, and for breakfast.”

“You’re going already? The ceremony doesn’t start until an hour from now, right?”

“I’m going to walk there. Plus I prefer to be early, and get a good view.”

“Alright. Well, you know where to find me if you need me,” Jade said, standing to give Aemilia a hug. Her dark curls tickled Aemilia’s face.

“Thank you,” Aemilia gave a light smile in appreciation. Smiling was hard for her these days, but she was truly grateful for having a friend like Jade.

 

***

 

The tall monument that stood in the center of a square as a dedication to the fallen civilians and soldiers in the operation to reclaim Wall Maria immediately caught Aemilia’s eye as she arrived at the scene. She estimated it to be about six meters high – six meters of hypocrisy, that is. The brunette walked around it, searching for the victims’ names, but found nothing, save for an inscription on the front-side:

‘in memory of our fallen friends and family, whose bravery will never be forgotten

Anno 846’.

 _Ah. How thoughtful_ , she thought to herself, unable to suppress a scoff in indignation. Nearly 250.000 people – a fifth of the remaining human population – had perished, and the royal government had the audacity to erect a monument with empty words to pretend they cared about the slaughtered civilians and their surviving family, ignoring that the people who died in that bloodbath were all individuals. Yes, they were ‘friends and family’, but they were also men and women with _names_ , who all had their own lives until they were cut short by a shit excuse for a government. Feeling her anger rise to a dangerous level, Aemilia took a breath to calm herself.

Grabbing a notebook and pencil from her briefcase, she started to draw a sketch of the monument. A block of stone to console the survivors. Aemilia almost wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. The perished didn’t even receive their own individual tombstones, supposedly because the government wanted ‘the brave to be remembered in a special place’, but Aemilia knew it was to save space. Then again, it wasn’t as if they would have been able to fill the graves if the slaughtered had received individual resting-places: they were all titan fodder, and no bodies had been brought back.

A crowd had started to form on the square in front of the obelisk as she was sketching. Looking up and scanning the congregation, she noticed it consisted mostly out of women, many of them carrying young children. Her heart sunk at the thought of all those children growing up fatherless, the women husbandless, and sisters brotherless – like herself.

The clattering sound of wheels rattling over cobblestone announced the arrival of several carriages, catching Aemilia’s attention. From the first vehicle she saw two men emerging: a short, chubby male accompanied by Commander Dot Pixis of the Garrison, whom Aemilia recognized by his uniform and purple bolo tie. From the second appeared another duo: Nile Dok, Commander of the Military Police Brigade, followed by Erwin Smith, Commander of the Scouting Legion. She similarly identified the latter two by the signa on their uniforms and bolo ties indicating their status. Several soldiers from the Military Police Brigade came forth from the other carriages and took their places divided over the square as assigned by their commander, operating as guards at the ceremony. A number of military trumpeters installed themselves on the right side from the monument. But the King himself was absent. Aemilia wondered what the excuse would be this time. Had any civilian even ever seen him in real life?

She eyed the two younger commanders who stood next to each other, thinking about how different their lives must be: one living safely within Wall Rose, never having encountered a titan, the other venturing outside the Walls on dangerous expeditions, having seen numerous titans and probably having escaped many possible deaths.

While some men set up a temporary podium beside the monument for the representative of the King, the crowd around Aemilia started to thicken more. She moved to stand in the front row so she’d be able to hear every word clearly.

The chubby male stepped on the platform, organizing his papers before commencing his speech. The crowd fell quiet as he cleared his throat.

“Dear civilians, it is with great mournfulness that King Fritz himself is unable to be present on this important day due to illness. However, rest assured that he grieves as you do, for our fallen friends and family. On his behalf I will lead the commemoration of the victims

who fell…”

 _Fell?_ Aemilia twitched at the euphemism. _Murdered, slaughtered, massacred_ , she corrected in her mind.

“…during the operation to retake Wall Maria…Though we did not succeed, their sacrifices were not in vain. It is in these dire and grievous times that we must stand strong and united…” the nasal voice of the aristocrat droned on. The sound annoyed her, almost as much as the sheer hypocrisy of the speech.

 _Sacrifices? What a bunch of horseshit_. _No, their deaths, extermination, pure obliteration_. She wanted to drown out the feigned empathetic voice, but her job forced her to make notes of the speech.

However, a shouting voice suddenly disrupted the speech, coming from a man who rushed towards the King’s representative, pushing aside people who gasped in reaction as he broke through the crowd.

“You fat bastard! My son’s death is all your fault! He was devoured by titans while you were enjoying yourself in the inner city, you bunch of fuck-ups! You are all cowards, sitting on your lazy asses!” he screamed, getting dangerously close to the podium.

Aemilia couldn’t help but inwardly agree with the slurs, though she feared for his punishment. He was quickly intercepted and taken away by three MP soldiers, who dragged him with force to one of the carriages, roughly pushing him inside.

The King’s representative cleared his throat before continuing his speech, his discomfort clearly visible by the way he tugged at his collar. Her eyes drifted to the three commanders of the military branches standing obliquely behind the aristocrat. They all wore a solemn expression. Her gaze lingered a fraction longer on the blonde commander, the leader of the Survey Corps that consisted of soldiers trained to fight titans, though they frequently returned with casualties. She wondered briefly what he had thought when the operation to reclaim Wall Maria was announced, in which ten thousands of untrained men and women were sent to their deaths. He must have been one of the few that very day who knew what they were up against. She wondered too what would be more frightening: knowing what you’re running into, or not knowing at all; encountering titan, after titan, after titan yet escaping every time, only to be confronted with death time and time again, or having your life snatched away from you in one sudden, single encounter with such a monster. She wasn’t sure herself, for she had never seen one.

“Now, before we commemorate the fallen in silence, it must be said that we owe gratitude to the Weiss family, who funded this monument and ceremony, so that the lives offered on that very day will never be forgotten.”

 _Sure, lets take this moment to kiss the aristocrats’ asses._ Aemilia took a deep breath to calm herself, but the indignant scoffs she heard from people in the crowd around her proved that she was not alone in her sentiment.

After the speech had finally ended, three wreaths were carried by children to be placed against the obelisk, while a melancholic tune was played by the military trumpeters. All the other military men present performed the salute. The first wreath was dedicated to the lost members of the Garrison, the second to the perished members of the Scouting Legion, and lastly, a wreath was laid down for all the civilians that were lost during that fateful and futile mission. Two minutes of silence followed to commemorate the fallen.

Aemilia’s mind drifted back to six months earlier, recalling the day her brother left, and never returned. Closing her eyes, her recollection of him was crystal-clear. But what stood out the most of that very last memory was his embrace – he rarely hugged her, so when he did, she had been confused. She could almost smell him again whenever she thought about it.

“ _I’m going to volunteer._ ”

“ _Volunteer? What are you talking about?_ ”

“ _They’re sending out civilians to reclaim Wall Maria. I’m volunteering_.”

Aemilia had let out a credulous laugh at the statement.

“ _But…that’s a suicide mission, you can’t go, Alexander, you’ll die out there_.”

“ _Why should others die while I live? I’m going, Aemilia, I’ve already made the choice. We’re leaving shortly_.”

She had grabbed his sleeve at that point to pause him.

“ _Then I’ll go too_.”

“ _No, you need to take care of grandma, Ames. She needs you_ ,” he had spoken dismissively, loosening her grip from his sleeve.

And just like that he had left, not dragging out their goodbye at all, his leaving as abrupt as his announcement. At this point of reliving the memory her hands would always painfully clench, a sign of powerlessness. She had wanted to say that _she_ needed _him_ , that he had promised he’d always have her back, that he couldn’t just leave her like that. But the sudden announcement and subsequent reality of his departure had left her dumb-struck, unable to form words anymore. She had thought that maybe he was kidding, or perhaps even that she was dreaming, but the empty third chair at the Sunday dinners at Grandma proved it was all too real.

In the beginning she had been angry. She felt abandoned. Betrayed, even. He didn’t even have an obligation to join the mission, no, he had _volunteered_. But that was what upset her even more. It had been his choice to leave her, even though both she and he – and many others – knew the operation to reclaim Wall Maria was a cover-up of the government for a mass genocide to help solve the food shortage. So to Aemilia, her brother’s choice to accept death so easily made no sense at all.

She let out a shaky breath as she opened her eyes again, noticing a familiar male figure beside her. Oliver. _Of course_. Jade must have sent him. Trumpets sounded in another melancholy tone, indicating the end of the two minutes of silence to commemorate the dead.

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping your father at the farm?” Aemilia whispered.

“I will when I get back. I wanted to see you first, make sure you’re okay,” he replied, an empathetic smile on his lips.

“I’m okay,” she lied, staring ahead.

“Sure,” he answered, glancing at the pencil point Aemilia had unintentionally broken from excess pressure on the notebook.

“We all miss him, Amy.”

 _Not as much as I do_ , she thought to herself. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, trying to make her lower lip stop trembling.

“It’s not just that…” she spoke softly, staring at her sketch.

Oliver turned his tall frame towards her, searching her eyes.

“I just don’t understand why he had to volunteer, you know?”

“Because he felt he had to,” Oliver answered simply.

“But he _didn’t_ have to.”

“Would you rather have it he was forced to participate? Like the ten-thousands of others?”

Aemilia blinked at the sudden question, looking up into Oliver’s blue-green eyes.

“You think that would’ve been better? If it wasn’t by choice but by force?” he continued.

“Where are you going with this?” she questioned, mild irritation coating her voice.

He let out a sigh, running his hand through his wavy, light brown hair as he pondered about his next words.

“Listen, when he told me about his decision, I tried to stop him too. But when I saw the look of determination on his face…I just realized that he _had_ to do this, this was him, his nature. He’s not the kind to sit idle and watch as others suffer, you and I both know that better than anyone else,” he replied, voice empathetic at the end.

It was true. Both she and Oliver had often witnessed how her brother would fight off their bullies when they were kids. They were both plagued by other children when they were young – for opposite reasons, ironically: one for being a book-worm, the other for being an illiterate farm boy. Oliver never fought back, not because he was weak though. On the contrary; he was physically quite stronger than average ever since a little boy due to helping out on the farm. Yet he never fought back because he was a gentle soul – too gentle perhaps, Aemilia thought – although she did notice he had become a bit more assertive ever since her brother was gone, watching over her even though there were no more bullies trying to tear her books or push her into puddles, as they were now well in their twenties. Although his protectiveness made her somehow feel weak at times, as if she was still a child, she nevertheless could deny it warmed her heart. He was always there for her. She wondered suddenly whether she was there for him enough. He and her brother were best friends after all.

“I suppose you are right,” Aemilia finally answered, softening her gaze. He returned a warm smile.

“So how’s your work going?” the young man asked, changing the subject as he gestured to her notebook.

“It’s going well. I only have a month of traineeship left. Speaking of work, I’m gonna finish up my notes, and then head back to the office to work on this article, but I’ll see you soon?”

“Sure, I’ll see you at Jade’s bar later probably.”

“Deal. See you later,” Aemilia said, turning to walk away, only to turn back.

“Oliver?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you…for being here.”

“No problem,” he answered in a casual tone, but the way his face lit up did not escape Aemilia’s notice.

 

***

 

During the carriage-ride towards the office of Berg Newspapers in Stohess District, Aemilia replayed her final memory of her brother once again. As painful as it was – and that was an understatement, it was also her driving force and the very reason for her aiming to become a journalist, following her brother in his footsteps. She, like many others, knew how corrupt the government was, but the covered-up genocide must have been one of the worst crimes.

As a journalist, she’d learn first-hand what the government wanted to hide from the public. Yes, it meant she had to participate in the corruption, but she saw it as the necessary means to her end. She’d collect as much information as she could, and take action when the time was right.

The job came with practical advantages too. It paid surprisingly well, or perhaps it was less surprising since the royal government needed to keep the journalists pliant and have them only publish articles approved by the monarchy. It was practically a form of blackmail, and Aemilia hated herself for it, but truthfully, there were very few job opportunities that allowed her this close to investigating the truth. But most importantly, it provided her access to many sources and places, including Wall Sina as the office was situated there.

As she arrived at the building, she planned on working quickly on the article, walking towards her desk, but her superior Roy motioned for her to come to his office instead. Altering her course to his room, she followed him inside, closing the door behind her.

“Please, miss Taube, take a seat,” the senior journalist said.

She sat herself down in the chair in front of his desk, wondering what he had to say.

“How was the commemoration ceremony earlier today?”

“It was fine, sir.”

“Any troubles?”

“There was one man, who…threw insults at the King’s representative and the aristocracy in general.”

“And then what happened?”

“He got dragged away, forcibly, by MP’s and shoved into a carriage which took off.”

Roy nodded slowly.

“Sir? What will happen to that man?”

The bald man sighed. “The gallows, probably. The royal government does not tolerate any opposition. They’ll make an example out of him.”

Aemilia felt her stomach tighten at the honest answer, but kept her face straight.

“And what about you, miss Taube?”

“Sir?”

“Do you oppose the government?”

The brunette stared at her superior.

“Pardon me, sir, but what is the relevance of this question?” she asked coolly.

“Listen, many young people who apply here are idealists, aiming to lay bare the truth about our world. I was like that myself too, when I was young, though I kept it to myself. Later I gave up, having a family to take care of. However, those who were less discrete…they disappeared mysteriously, if you catch my drift. I advise you, like every new person here, to give up on this dream to reveal the secrets. You have a great talent. Don’t do anything stupid. We’d hate to miss you.”

“Noted,” she answered with a single nod.

At that, Roy made a vague gesture indicating she was allowed to leave. Outside his office, Aemilia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Roy’s warning refreshed her awareness of the dangers of trying to seek and disclose the truth. However, her determination would not be so easily shaken. No, she owed it to her brother to uncover everything, lay bare the corruption and bring her deceased brother justice. It was the right thing to do.

Straightening out her dress, she walked to her desk to work on the article. For now, she’d play along the enemy’s rules.

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) More Erwin Smith in following chapters.  
> 2) I'm a new writer so please bear with me as I learn.  
> 3) Shout-out to author salmonbutter, who encouraged me to just go for it :D


	3. Hazelnuts and Apple-Pie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Highly recommend listening to: LEE HI - 한숨 (BREATHE) - Piano Cover on Youtube ( /watch?v=DBp-qMcSZP8 ).

 

_Autumn 847_.

 

The grass was still damp from morning dew when Aemilia arrived at the farm of Oliver’s father, Mr. Bär, just outside Trost District. He was examining his small acre field, but took off his hat when he saw Aemilia arrive. Oliver wasn’t present, from which Aemilia concluded that he was probably still on his way home from delivering some of their crops to the merchants in Trost District.

 

Mr. Bär and Aemilia both didn’t say anything as they walked over to each other, but he knew why she was here today. Instead, they greeted each other with an embrace.

 

Behind him, she saw birds flying in dancing patterns from tree to tree, gathering as they prepared to trek to a warmer area. Aemilia’s eyes were fixated on them, trying to make sense of their seemingly random movements. She wondered where they would migrate to, how far they would travel. She felt jealous of their freedom.

 

They pulled away from each other, and Mr. Bär grabbed her hand to fill it with something he had taken out of his pocket, smiling warmly, crow’s feet showing at the corners of his eyes. It was as if she was looking at an older version of Oliver. Mr. Bär was less tall though, his face a bit rounder, and he wore his dark hair shorter, but their eyes held that same kindness.

 

She knew what he had given her without needing to look. She returned the smile before resuming her path towards a boulder nearby the acre-field. She could see it from afar as she traversed a meadow, picking wildflowers on her way. Oliver and she had made that rock into her brother’s headstone more than a year ago.

 

Aemilia and her brother used to come here often when they were still children to collect hazelnuts that had fallen from the trees nearby.

 

One time, when they were scouring the ground under the trees, a boy who was taller than Alexander suddenly had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. It had made them both jump, because they knew they weren’t supposed to be there – it was someone’s property. Her brother immediately had told her to stand behind him, and she had quickly hidden her hands full of the little nuts behind her back.

“ _What do you want?_ ” Alexander had asked, though in a tone too unfriendly for Aemilia’s taste.

The other boy just looked at them silently, until a few nuts fell from Aemilia’s small hands, plopping on the earth. His eyes moved towards the fallen hazelnuts behind the young girl.

“ _There’s more over there_ ,” the other boy then had said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder.

Her brother had looked at him in bewilderment.

“ _You like these too?_ ” Aemilia had answered, eyes hopeful and her hands now open to the boy, reaching them out to him to reveal what she had hidden.

“ _Aemilia_ …” her brother had warned, but the other boy grinned at them, revealing a small woven basket filled with hazelnuts.

“ _Of course!_ ” he had replied cheerfully with smiling eyes, leading the way to where there was more.

 

And then they were friends.

 

Aemilia smiled at the fond memory. She had been amazed by the innocent kindness of the boy – whose name she learned was Oliver – and similarly by his father, who she learned was the owner of the farm nearby. Oliver had taken Aemilia and Alexander to meet Mr. Bär, and they had all eaten cookies baked with hazelnuts in them together, which she then decided were her favorite.

 

Alexander had asked whether Mr. Bär was angry at all that they had been sneaking around his property and collecting nuts. He had just laughed heartily.

“ _Not at all_ ,” he had said, “ _if you’re hungry, you gotta eat! Besides, I didn’t realize you were sneaking around because I could just_ see _you anyway_.” Amusement had clad his face; embarrassment Alexanders, and it made her burst out in laughter, then, and now.

 

It didn’t take long before she and her brother came there almost every weekend to meet Oliver (and to eat cookies). Mr. Bär became like family to them, especially since they had no other family than each other and Grandma. His hospitality and gentleness appeared to her as a stark contrast to the cruel world they lived in.

 

She stopped in front of the boulder, which had her brother’s initials inscribed on it:

_A._ _K. T._

She traced her fingers over the inscription which she and Oliver had engraved in it two months after the failed mission to reclaim Wall Maria. It took two months, because for the first month Aemilia kept holding on to the thought that maybe he had survived miraculously and that he would come back. And for the second month, she thought that maybe the body would be brought back somehow, and they’d have a funeral and bury his body officially at the cemetery. But neither happened, so Oliver had suggested to turn this boulder into an altar for him.

 

She placed a small bundle of the wildflowers she had collected on her way at the foot of the boulder.  

“I know you wouldn’t really have cared for these,” she chuckled to herself, though the tremble in her voice betrayed the sorrow in her heart, “but you would’ve loved these,” she concluded as she placed a handful of hazelnuts beside the small bouquet.

“Happy birthday, big brother,” she whispered and ate one hazelnut herself. It was salty, for the small nut had been seasoned by one of her tears. But it was okay, because she was alone here.

 

It was the second birthday since her brother had passed during that failed mission, but she still wasn’t used to it, and she doubted she ever would. It felt wrong to her to ever feel okay with how things had happened. If she would no longer be upset, wouldn’t it mean she approved of the genocide? How could she ever accept such a crime?

 

Still, the words Oliver had shared during the commemoration had been echoing a lot in her head lately, and she had thought about whether it would’ve been any different if her brother had been forced to join the mission, whether she would have been less sad, less angry, less bitter, less…hollow. But she still wasn’t sure.

 

A small stone at the foot of the boulder caught her eye, and she bent down to pick it up, studying it before lazily tossing it up and catching it, repeating this mindless movement. She couldn’t help but think of how she got hit once by a stone like this one, thrown by a bully when she was a kid. It wasn’t the first time stones got thrown at her, but it was the first – and the last – time she got actually hit, because the times before she had always run, since that’s what her brother had told her to do.

 

However, this one time she hadn’t. Instead she stood still, facing her bullies, defying them, trying to show them she was not afraid. She got hit in the face then, a small stone cutting her upper lip. And the kid who had thrown it, looked in horror, his arm still mid-air, apologizing, saying he hadn’t meant to actually hit her, just to scare her.

 

Her brother had arrived at the scene that very moment, and rained down hell upon the perpetrator. She had heard the kid squeal like a pig. Then, he had turned towards her, grabbing her arm tightly.

“ _You idiot! Look at your face, what the hell did you think you were doing, standing still just like that?!_ ”

“ _I didn’t want to run anymore_ ,” she had replied, giving a sheepish smile that showed her bloodied teeth. He had looked at her in disbelief, before enveloping his little sister in a tight embrace that almost smothered her.

“ _Come on, let’s go home_.”

 

***

_Winter 847._

Home. She hadn’t been there for a while. In the beginning, Aemilia had tried – she really had – to join Grandma for the Sunday dinners and get used to that empty chair. But after a while she found that it became more and more painful, suffocating even, instead of less. It reminded her too much of the void within herself.

 

And so she started skipping the Sunday meals more and more often, only dropping by her grandmother in the bookshop to tell her that she was really busy with her new job and that she couldn’t stay, and her grandmother would always just smile with understanding in her hooded eyes.

 

And then Aemilia would eat alone instead, at her small rented room in Karaness District when she was still a trainee, and later in Stohess District where she lived currently, close to the office of Berg Newspapers. And in that house in Stohess District she was further, much further, from her grandmother and from the empty third chair, yet it was still suffocating and she didn’t know how to make it stop.

 

Today it was another Sunday, and it had been months now since the last time Aemilia had joined her grandmother for dinner. But today, Aemilia thought that perhaps she could be strong enough to set aside her fear of that forsaken chair, because after all, Grandma needed her – that’s what Alexander had said before he had left.

 

She gathered all her willpower, and she repeated her brother’s final words in her mind like a mantra.

 

Everything went fine as she went through the front door after using her own key that she still had, ascending the stairs that led to the living area above her grandmother’s bookshop, until suddenly the smell of freshly baked apple-pie caught her off guard, hitting her harder than any stone ever could have. It had always been Alexander’s favorite. She tried hard to swallow away that lump in her throat, not wanting her constricted voice to betray her emotions, because she wanted and _needed_ to be strong for Grandma.

 

She dropped her bag on the wooden floor, pausing in the hallway to compose herself.

 

“Aemilia? Is that you?”

 

Her grandmother called her name in that familiar, ever-welcoming tone, before coming out of the small kitchen to the hallway with her apron still on, and Aemilia realized just how much she had missed her and how much she needed _her_ , because she was the only family she had left.

 

And when she saw those same hooded eyes, ever filled with love and warmth and endless understanding, she broke, and she was embarrassed for she should be the one taking care of her grandmother, not the other way around.

 

But it happened anyway, and her sweet, sweet grandmother rushed towards Aemilia, took her in her arms, not stopping to take off her apron that was speckled with flour – because such things do not matter – and stroked her hair gently.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” Aemilia whispered between shaking sobs, though she wasn’t sure whether she was apologizing for having stayed away for too long, or for being emotional in front of her. Perhaps both. And whether it was either or both, it didn’t matter to Grandma. She did not shush her, nor say it’s okay. She just let her be.

 

“I am here,” Grandma softly spoke, still stroking Aemilia’s hair in calming motions. But it made Aemilia feel even more mournful, because Grandma had been there always indeed, and she had been the one who wasn’t, fleeing away, unable to face reality. But now she was finally here, and she had to be careful to not hug her grandmother’s body too tightly now.

 

When she had finally calmed down, they moved to the kitchen and sat at the kitchen-table, and there was the vacant third chair. Grandma placed a small platter with a big slice of apple pie in front of Aemilia. It wasn’t salty. Not at all.

 

***

 

After preparing dinner together, and after Grandma had assured Aemilia at least three times that she could handle watching the stew simmer on her own, the young woman decided to check out her old room in the house.

 

When she opened the door to her previous room, she saw everything was still the same as over a year ago, before she had moved to pursue her career as a journalist. It was to be expected from her grandmother, to keep everything intact, to let Aemilia know that she was always welcome.

 

Then, she moved to the door beside her old room, the door that led to the room in which her brother had spent his entire childhood and only a part of his adulthood. She paused before turning the knob. Was she ready?

 

She held her breath as she finally opened the door. She stepped inside slowly, wooden floor creaking beneath her tentative steps. There was no ‘ _get out of my room!_ ’ like there was when they were children, especially when they were teenagers, whenever Aemilia wanted to show her brother something in a book she thought was cool. Now, there was only the sound of boards of wood responding to the gravity of her feet, and the thump of her own heartbeat.

 

Her eyes roamed around the small space, scanning the shelves that were against the right wall. Something funny caught her eye. She moved towards the shelf, and grabbed a frame.

 

Inside it were wildflowers pressed upon paper. She remembered she had given it once when they were still children, because she thought they were beautiful. She had been anxious about his reaction because it had taken her multiple days to dry the flowers, and a big share of her monthly allowance to buy a frame. Her brother had forced out a word of gratitude only after Grandma had elbowed him. She hadn’t expected him to keep it.

 

On the bottom shelf she spotted a notebook. She remembered how he had started writing when he had decided he wanted to become a journalist. She had reacted in disbelief first, never thinking him to be the writer type, not with his hotheadedness – but he proved her initial reaction wrong when he was hired by a newspaper company as an adult.

 

She bent down to grab the notebook, tracing the leather cover of the journal. Her thumb had already hooked around the corner of the cover to open it, when she suddenly realized she should still respect his privacy, even though he was gone, putting the thought to look inside away.

 

She stretched out her arm to put it back into its place on the shelf again, when her grandmother calling that dinner was ready made her jump, making her drop the notebook. It landed with the face up, opening on a random page.

 

As she bent down to pick it up, she was able to see that newspaper cut-outs had been pasted on the two pages. Obituaries, in fact. She frowned when she didn’t recognize the two names of the obituaries on either page. _Jacob Johnson, Elizabeth Ferguson_. She flipped to the next page. _Johannes Nickelsburg, Herbert Grässer_. She found herself flipping through more pages, each page showing yet another obituary of a person whose name she didn’t recognize.

_Why would he save these_ , she thought to herself.

 

At the end of the notebook, she found a loose scrap of paper with something scribbled on it: ‘ _FIND THEM’_. She flipped the scrap of paper, but there was nothing else written on it. When her grandmother called her a second time, she decided to study the rest of the content of the notebook later, curiosity having taken over her. She quickly tucked the journal into her bag in the hallway before entering the kitchen.

 

During dinner, she found it difficult to not think about the obituaries. She couldn’t recall her brother ever having mentioned any of the names she saw in his journal. She pondered for a moment whether she should ask Grandma about the names, but decided to not dwell on it during this dinner, but to be present instead. After all, it had been so long since they had shared this table for dinner.

 

“This beef stew is wonderful, Grandma. But beef…it’s expensive. You spoil me…even after I–”

“We shall speak of that no more, Amy. What matters is that you are here now,” Grandma interrupted, her dark eyes glistening with happiness and Aemilia couldn’t help but feel the same.

“You are right,” the young woman admitted.

“Am I ever not?” her grandmother grinned proudly. It made Aemilia smile, and from now on, she would make an effort to visit more often.

 

***

 

The next morning, Aemilia found herself trying to hide her yawns as she entered the office of Berg Newspapers. She hadn’t had much sleep, as the trip from Trost District back to Stohess District was long.

 

After taking her seat at her desk, she put her bag on her lap and opened it. Seeing a leather-covered journal that wasn’t hers in her bag, she suddenly remembered it to be her brother’s notebook. She threw a quick glance around her, but her colleagues all seemed to pay attention to their own tasks.

 

She took the notebook out of her bag then, and quickly skimmed through it to see if it contained anything else than obituaries, something like written notes perhaps. However, there was nothing. In order to rule out that this hadn’t been some weird childhood hobby of her brother, she went to the last page to check its most recent obituary.

_Bernard R. Nussbaum_

_12 July 802 – 3 February 846._

 

_February 846, just before the mission to reclaim Wall Maria_. From this, she concluded that her brother had been working on this shortly before his own death. Could it be that her brother simply collected all the obituaries of Trost District? It would be unlikely, she thought to herself, since there were certainly many more deaths than the amount of cut-out obituaries in the notebook, which were at least over thirty.

 

_Alright, let’s start from the beginning_. She went back to the very first page.

 

_Richard Smith_

_28 February 775 – 17 April 826._

 

Again, a name unfamiliar to her. _826_. Her brother was twelve years old then, she was five. She quickly checked the dates of passing of the other people between the first and last obituaries, but there didn’t seem to be a specific coherence there, except that they were all simply somewhere between 826 and 846. The ages at which these people had died varied greatly too: from anywhere between 21 and 68 years.

 

She drummed her fingers on her desk in contemplation. _Wait. ‘Smith’?_   She wondered whether this Richard was somehow related to another Smith that came to her mind: Erwin Smith, the current commander of the Scouting Legion. However, Smith was a relatively common family name, she thought to herself. And even _if_ they were related, she still couldn’t think of a reason why her brother saved the obituary, or why he had started with this one.

 

She’d have to ask someone to get some kind of lead on these names. But who? She looked around at her colleagues in the office. She remembered none of her colleagues were from Trost District as she was, so they probably wouldn’t be much of help. She decided then that she would have to ask her friends Jade and Oliver: they were her best options. She groaned inwardly for having to wait almost an entire week until she could see them and ask for help.

 

When she heard approaching footsteps, she quickly closed the notebook and stuffed it back into her bag. She looked up to see her boss Roy standing at her desk.

 

“Miss Taube, Budget Day’s in three weeks. As you know, the King will deliver his speech from the Throne, and he will announce the government’s plans for next year, including financial plans, the spending of the taxes – you know the drill. I want you there to make a report of the accords. Take Peaure with you, he’s a new trainee here.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Oh, and there will probably be lots of aristocrats present, including members of the court. Don’t step on anyone’s toes, you hear me?”

“Naturally, sir.”

“I meant that literally and figuratively.”

“I know, sir,” she replied with a straight face.

 “Alright,” he tapped her desk awkwardly, “back to work,” he spoke before leaving.

 

***

 

The weekdays went by agonizingly slow for Aemilia, but when it was finally Friday and she had finished her article, she rushed to clear her desk, leave the office and go to Trost District to see her friends. Putting on her camel-colored wool coat and wrapping around her scarf hurriedly, she exited the office building. She was already running down the stairs from the doors to the sidewalk, when she heard someone call her name.

 

“Miss Taube! Wait for me, please,” a male voice called. She turned to watch a young man with dark, cropped hair and rectangular glasses approach her. He wore a white shirt with black pants and a black vest. He wasn’t much taller than herself.

“Let me introduce myself, I’m Peaure, a trainee at Berg Newspapers. Mr. Roy just assigned me to come with you on Budget Day,” the young male spoke as he held out his hand to shake hers.

“Nice to meet you, call me Aemilia,” she replied. She saw his nose turning red. “You shouldn’t be outside without a coat in winter,” she remarked.

“Hehe, I’ll remember that when we go to capital Mitras.”

She smiled lightly in acknowledgement.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to stop you for long. I just wanted to say that I’m rather excited for the King’s Speech,” he said, eyes glistening.

“Why would you be excited about a speech about budget plans?”

“I mean, not the speech itself per se, but I’ve never seen the King before, you know?”

_Neither have I_ , she thought, but instead she offered him a polite smile.

“We’ll see how it goes, Peaure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Was the first half too melancholic? I was in some kind of mood, man oh man.  
> 2) Erwin will most probably be introduced in chapter 3 or 4, SORRY IT’S TAKING LONG.  
> 3) Grandma’s “I am here” was inspired by a Buddhist, I believe it was Thich Nhat Hanh (“Darling, I am here for you”), who explains that to help a loved one, you should be truly present, and be there and actually voice that you are there for them. I found the simplicity of it so beautiful, and also fitting for the situation between Grandma and Aemilia. I’m sure many of us relate to the struggle of sharing your suffering with someone else /especially/ loved ones. So many people offer words of advice, or criticism, or whatever, but sometimes, all you need is someone who lets you be.  
> 4) After writing this chapter I found out that Trost District and Stohess District are supposedly about 12 hours apart, so it practically would have been impossible for Aemilia to return to Stohess from Trost after dinner and get sleep before work, buuut forgive me for the sake of the story lol (and I’ll try to be consistent with the manga in the future).  
> 5) Budget Day sounds so stupid, we have our own word for it in a non-English language, but this came up as the English translation, so yeah.


	4. Letters

“How bad is it?”

Mike came to a halt before Erwin’s desk, followed by captain Levi and fellow squad-leader Hange. The commander handed the letter to the tall squad-leader, his right-hand man, who had asked the question, so he could see it for himself.

“That’s it? No further explanation?” he asked, turning the sheet around, where he found nothing. He passed the letter to the short raven-haired man beside him, who read it silently before letting out a ‘ _tch_ ’.

“Let me see it,” Hange requested. Her eyes flew over the few words printed on the paper. “Twenty percent?!” she exclaimed in disbelief, “if this isn’t the most counterproductive decision, I don’t know what is.”

“Glasses is right,” captain Levi stated monotonously.

“Erwin, this is bad. What will we do?” the scientist asked, peering at the commander.

“We’ll have to reorganize everything: the frequency of expeditions, rations, materials, the number of recruits we can accept even though there’s already a shortage – everything,” she continued, staring in incredulity at her superior.

The commander knew it was coming, though he had hoped they were given more time. Indeed, the mortality-rate during their expeditions beyond the walls was still too high and success-rate perhaps too low, but a cut in their budget certainly would not help improve either on their expeditions, nor would it benefit them in their research of titans. They needed more time, and more of everything Hange just mentioned, but instead they were brutally forced to cut down on just that: _everything_. Although the commander could not deny the unease stirring within him, he retained his composure.

“It is most unfortunate indeed, but it appears there is no other way than for us to adjust,” he replied simply, his voice calm and decisive. “Leave me to it, I’ll come up with new plans. You are dismissed.”

When his three subordinates left his office, he rose to stand at the window behind his desk, sky-blue eyes staring outside, watching snow-flakes fluttering down as his breath fogged up the glass.

An image of his father appeared before him, when he sat him down at home one day, after Erwin had been asking questions in class when they were discussing history.

The candle on the table, its flame flickering; his father cleaning his glasses before putting them back on to look at young Erwin, speaking in a low, serious tone while expounding his speculations about their world; he himself hanging onto every word. The mental image would always even more so incite his desire to find out the truth. He’d find out whether his father’s theories were true, one way or another.

Despite the newly announced setback, Erwin was determined to continue his efforts, whatever the cost. Their endeavors up till now would not be forfeit. His resolution could not be shaken so easily.

***

The sun was already in retreat to make way for the moon when Aemilia arrived at Mr. Bär’s property to visit Oliver. She planned on asking him about her brother’s journal, after Jade hadn’t recognized any of the names in the notebook this morning. It was a bit of a disappointment, since she really had only a few options of people to consult.

Her head still ached a little bit, even though she had only had one drink last night at her friend’s bar. Or perhaps it was from overthinking. Frankly, for the past week since the discovery of her brother’s journal she had been consumed by the riddle of the obituaries. But what if it didn’t mean anything, like Jade had carefully suggested as the obituaries just seemed too random to her? Aemilia had almost wondered it too, except the imperative written on the loose scrap of paper she had found in the back made her incline to think otherwise.

The sound of crunching snow beneath the steps of her boots took her momentarily out of her thoughts. It was a pleasant sound, she thought. Peaceful somehow, and pure. Here there were no bustling people, just layers of white glistening in a late afternoon sun, a serenity she wasn’t sure she could find anywhere else.

As she walked past the large kitchen window of Mr. Bär’s house, she saw Oliver and his father sitting at the kitchen table. It appeared as if Oliver was reading and explaining something to Mr. Bär, who seemed to listen intently. She knocked on the window, causing the Bär men to look up. When they waved at her with an identical smile, she continued to walk to the back-door that led into the kitchen, stomping her boots outside to get rid of the snow before letting herself inside their home.

“Amy, what a pleasant surprise! Come sit, have some tea with us.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bär,” she answered, rubbing her hands and blowing on them to warm them. “How have you been doing?” she asked, taking off her winter coat and scarf, draping them over the back of her chair.

“Same old, same old,” he replied, with his back turned to Aemilia and Oliver as he started to fill a kettle with water at the kitchen counter. She noticed something was off, perhaps because he had turned his back towards her when he answered her. Her eyes followed his movements at the kitchen counter from the sink to the stove, where he placed the kettle to cook the water.

When he sat down across from her, he smiled at her, but she noticed how his smile didn’t reach his eyes quite the same as it usually did. She looked over at Oliver, who gave her a similar smile.

When he put his elbows on the table, leaning forward somewhat, she saw a corner of white sticking out from the breast-pocket of his checkered shirt. An envelope.

“If you two plan on hiding something from me, then you should put in more effort,” she said, nodding towards the envelope.

Oliver blinked at her, seemingly wanting to deny the allegation, but Aemilia cocked an eyebrow at the young man.

“It’s uhm, it’s nothing. Just an envelope,” he answered awkwardly, scratching behind his head. “How’s work? Any big assignments coming up?”

Aemilia ignored the question, focusing on the envelope instead. “You carry around empty envelopes these days?” she asked sarcastically. “Come on, Ollie, you were never a good liar.” She put her own elbows on the table now too, leaning forwards. “What’s in that envelope?”

He looked over at his father for a moment, but the whistle of the kettle interrupted their conversation. While Mr. Bär stood to make the three of them tea, Aemilia held her gaze directed at the young man beside her, ever persistent. The silence was only broken by the sound of hot water being poured into three cups, which were then placed on the kitchen table.

Aemilia took one gratefully, giving a short nod and polite smile to silently thank Mr. Bär, still waiting for Oliver to answer, but when she looked at his father, she suddenly noticed how tired his eyes were.

“What’s going on?” she tried again, her tone impatient yet worried. She heard Oliver take in a breath to say something, but then the older man closed his eyes and smiled lightly in defeat, giving a nod as approval to share the news with the young woman. “You truly are fit to be a journalist, ever inquiring. Tell her, Ollie.”

“It’s…a letter. It’s…from the government,” he answered reluctantly.

She narrowed her eyes slightly, staring at the young man in silence to let him continue.

He let out a sigh before slowly taking the folded envelope out of his breast pocket and unfolding it, placing it before Aemilia on the table.

“They want us to give up our land, it doesn’t say why, but…they’re offering us a sum of money if we oblige. However, it’s not nearly enough to live on, not even for a year…”

The news made her stomach tighten. Mr. Bär shook his head, the lines on his forehead deepening in concern. He suddenly looked much older, Aemilia thought.

“We don’t want to give up our land. We thought of hiring a lawyer, but…we can’t afford it. But, even if we could, it probably wouldn’t make much difference, would it?” Oliver asked, smiling sadly.

“I’m afraid it wouldn’t,” she answered honestly, “if you try to fight the proposal, the government might confiscate–” 

“Amy, this land is all we have, we’re not going to give this up,” Mr. Bär interrupted.

“I’m not sure-” she started, but was interrupted again.

“Oliver’s mother’s, my wife’s ashes, they rest on this very ground. This land is not just our work; this is our life, our home. We cannot lose this,” the man seemed to tremble at the thought of losing everything he had left.

She nodded slowly, to show her understanding. She had never seen him this visibly distressed before. Sure, she had seen him a bit worried before, whenever his crops were plagued by insects, but this was entirely different. He would not simply lose some crops, he would lose his land that was practically sacred to him. Her brother’s altar would be lost too, she realized, but the idea of Mr. Bär and Oliver losing their home, and for his wife’s resting place to possibly be turned into something unknown…it wasn’t right.

She inhaled sharply. _Why do they have to take everything?_ The heat of her tea had spread through the barrier of the cup into her clenched fingers around it from pleasant to painfully now, pulling her from her thoughts. She let go of the cup quickly, leaning towards the farmer, placing a reassuring hand on his forearm.

“We won’t let it happen, Mr. Bär,” she said, and she meant it. “We will fight this. I promise.”

***

_Budget Day._

“Aemilia Taube, Berg Newspapers,” the young woman stated at the gate of the King’s Residence in Mitras, where all guests were checked. She was motioned to a guard, who checked her body for hidden weapons, tapping her limbs and torso on all sides. When the guard allowed her to pass through the gate, a servant of the Court welcomed her and Peaure, who followed just behind her.

Aemilia noticed Peaure’s excitement from the way his head shot in different directions as they walked the red carpet into the King’s Residence, guided by the servant. It reminded her of a puppy, unable to be focused on one thing at a time. She couldn’t blame him; she had been impressed by all the pomp and circumstance too when she was here last year as a trainee, though not positively awed.

The servant led the journalist pair through long corridors to the main hall where the Throne was situated. Dozens of chairs were set up before the throne in a half-circle in three sections. The hall was already filled with many aristocrats, who were happily chattering as if this was some kind of family reunion.

The court servant assigned the duo to the place designated for press, at the front of the left section, near the Throne where they would fully be able to hear the speech. Aemilia thanked their guide, taking her seat in a spot from where she’d be able to look at the speaker as well as observe the audience.

She cast a glance at Peaure, who seemed consumed by the sight of royal splendor around him. She couldn’t wait to see his reaction when the King’s Representative would appear to announce the King himself was for some reason unable to be present. She herself was used to the excuses now.

A group of military men took their seats opposite them on the right section of the half-circle. She recognized the Commander-in-Chief Darius Zackly, and the commanders of the three military branches.

The front row of the middle section was reserved for members of the King’s Assembly, and behind them other members of the aristocracy. From their haughty laughter they seemed completely untroubled, unfamiliar to struggles of commoners, while the military men appeared rather stoic.

When she saw the Commander of the Survey Corps, her mind flashed back to that very first obituary in her brother’s notebook. _Richard Smith_. Eyeing the commander, she wondered again whether the two were related. She didn’t have enough information yet though.

She let out a sigh, frustrated she hadn’t gotten a lead on any of the names yet. Jade hadn’t recognized any of the names, and she hadn’t been able to ask Oliver yet, since he and his father had worries of their own. She had thought hard the past two weeks to come up with a strategy to fight the government’s plan to steal their land. She had promised Mr. Bär, and she would keep it.

She didn’t realize she had been staring at the blonde commander in thought until his cool eyes met hers. She gave a small nod and flashed a light smile out of politeness, and he seemed to incline his head ever so little in a brief nod of acknowledgement.

A servant announced for everyone to take their seats and be silent now to welcome the King’s Representative, explaining that the King himself would be unable to speak due to injury. Aemilia glanced to the young man at her side and had to restrain herself from laughing at Peaure’s reaction, disappointment visible on his face due to the absence of the King.

A short, round man took his seat upon the Throne. Aemilia had to quickly cover her smile when she noticed the man’s legs dangling off the throne, due to his limited height. Since she was close, she could see his face starting to redden, before adjusting himself so that his feet could touch the ground.

“Members of the Court, State Officials,

It has been two years now since Wall Maria has been breached. The day marks a black page in the history of humanity. Many lives were lost that day, and it has reminded us to always be vigilant. Our priority has _always_ been to ensure the safety of humanity, but since the breach we have been exerting ourselves even more to find ways to protect mankind from the monsters that threaten us from the other side of the walls. It is our very duty, as the leaders of our nation, to provide the people with protection, as we have vowed to serve humankind. It is the true king’s very responsibility, to attend to his people’s needs and act accordingly to their best interests.

The breach of Wall Maria has reminded us that the threat is ever real, and that we must renew our efforts to safeguard humanity. The fear of the people has not gone unnoticed: we hear you, loud and clear.

Due to this great loss two years ago, we have decided to change our priorities regarding the protection and insurance of humanity, which we will effect by investing in fortification of Wall Rose around Trost District in the South. However, this means we will have to cut on the taxes by which the Scouting Legion is funded.”

Aemilia’s gaze shot to the Commander. He seemed unmoved, his countenance calm and collected.

“Instead, we will install units on the lands near Trost District which is currently occupied by dozens of farmers…”

The female journalist now understood why Mr. Bär had received a letter. _Wait, ‘dozens of farmers’? How much land were they planning on confiscating? Food was already scarce, and this would only make it worse. Prices would go up even more…How was this ever a way ‘to attend to people’s needs’?_ _Besides, how would a thicker wall or more weapons installed on the walls guarantee the prevention of another breach? How would some Garrison units help if 250.000 people were squashed in a single day? Had the government even thought this through?_

Aemilia’s grip on her notebook tightened, her skin prickling from the urge to do something about the situation, but there was no way she could protest right here, right now. Guards would take her away immediately. No, she’d have to take a different approach entirely.

Suddenly, an idea hit her, and she smiled at herself. It would be a gamble, but a necessary one at that.

 ***

 Aemilia sat outside the office of Trost District’s Mayor, waiting impatiently. She twirled her pencil between her fingers in concentration. She wasn’t normally nervous to speak to people who ranked higher than her, but a lot was at stake here. She needed this conversation to go well, not just for herself.

She thought back to the King’s representative’s speech from the Throne two weeks ago, when the government’s budget plans were announced. She let out a scoff when she recalled the words that damned aristocrat had dared to say: ‘ _to serve humankind_ ’. _Sure, by making people starve_ , she thought to herself. She was lucky she earned more money than average as a journalist, so that she herself hadn’t been struggling, but she also realized all of that could change in a single moment.

The rest of the speech had been standard: the government assured they would invest more in education, create more job opportunities, to help the ones in need – all to ensure the safety of the people now and of future generations. All empty promises and meaningless numbers. Pure lies.

After the speech had ended, Aemilia had considered to walk up to the Scouting Legion’s commander and ask him whether he knew her brother. She could barely retain her curiosity anymore. However, her ratio stopped her from doing so, knowing it would have been inappropriate considering the circumstance.

When the door to the Mayor’s office finally opened, she rose abruptly from her seat, smoothing out her knee-length pencil skirt before taking confident strides towards the middle-aged woman.

“Mayor Blume, thank you for taking the time to see me. My name is Aemilia Taube,” she introduced herself, shaking the other woman’s hand firmly.

“Welcome, miss Taube, please come in,” the mayor replied, gesturing for her to enter the office, closing the door behind them. She took her seat in a leather chair behind the desk, while the young journalist sat down in the chair on the other side.

“Tell me, what brings you here?” the mayor asked, tucking a blond-greyish curl behind her ear before adopting a formal position by sitting up straight and placing her hands on the desk, fingers intertwined.

“Forgive me for being straightforward, mayor, but to save us both time, I will be frank. I am here to request your help,” Aemilia simply stated.

“Oh? What can I do for you, miss Taube?” the older woman replied, smiling politely.

“As I’m sure you are aware, the budget plans for the coming year were announced recently. Apparently, the government has plans to somehow fortify the walls around Trost District, including the part of Wall Rose that divides us from the territory between Wall Rose and Wall Seena, as our district is threatened the most by titans. While they haven’t made clear the exact details of the project, it will be at the cost of dozens of farmers, who will have to give up their land.”

“And how can I help if the government has already made their decision?” the mayor interrupted, though her eyes remained friendly.

“Mayor, if this plan were to be carried out, I believe it will not take long before the population of Trost District will suffer.”

“Miss Taube, what are you saying?” the mayor asked, peering at Aemilia through her round glasses.

“I’m asking you to support me, to help me in preventing this plan from being executed, for the sake of the people of Trost.”

“I’m afraid there isn’t much we can do, the government has made up their mind.”

“Mayor, if we lose even a share of the farmlands, food will become even more scarce, prices will go up. With hunger comes crime…”

“I see you have a family,” Aemilia daringly continued, glancing at a family portrait hanging on the wall behind the mayor, depicting the woman herself, a man whom she assumed to be her husband, an adolescent boy and a young adult male. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want your family to risk famine.”

Suddenly the mayor’s eyes turned sullen, and she dropped her formal posture. She followed Aemilia’s gaze, turning to take the framed portrait from the wall, holding it in her hands as she stared at it.

“My family is…no more.”

The young journalist suddenly felt incredibly inconsiderate and frankly, stupid.

“I apologize, mayor. I crossed a line-”

“Offer not your apologies, miss Taube, for it is not your fault they are gone. My two sons were forced to-”, she paused for a moment, her breath hitching, “they passed in the mission to reclaim Wall Maria, unfortunately.”

Aemilia’s heart dropped to her stomach. She knew what it was like to lose a sibling, but to lose a child – two even – as a mother, in that very same genocide that had cost her brother’s life? She could not even begin to imagine the grief this woman must have been bearing.

“When the MP’s who selected them realized they were the mayor’s, _my_ , sons, they were given the option to not go. However, they still did, because they didn’t want to get special treatment simply because their mother was a government official. This was indeed how we raised them.” She smiled sadly.

“But at the same time my heart was torn between my duty as mayor and my duty as mother. But we can’t turn back time, can we? And so we live with our choices…”

Aemilia listened intently to the woman’s confessions.

“My husband…he was such a happy man, but…” she paused again, taking a deep breath before continuing, “he was unable to bear the pain of the loss of our children,” she added in almost a whisper, caressing her thumb over the drawn picture of her husband.

The journalist didn’t have to ask what that meant.

“My condolences, mayor. I cannot ever fathom the loss you must have experienced…”

The mayor nodded in acknowledgement.

Aemilia swallowed hard before risking her next phrase. “I did not see you at the reveal of the monument last year.”

The mayor looked up to the younger woman. “You were there?”

“I was, I had to be present to write a report on it, but…I also lost my brother to this… _mission_ , unfortunately.”

“I see…” the mayor stared at Aemilia intrigued, having caught the tone in which the journalist had pronounced the word ‘mission’.

“I chose not to be present,” the mayor stated then, “I did not support the monument, nor the operation.” She stood from her chair, taking a few steps to stare outside the window that gave her a view from above at the square, where that abominable obelisk stood.

“You know, my husband was my biggest supporter when I told him I wanted to become the mayor of this district. I wanted to help the people, make the small world we know a better place. How foolish I soon realized I was, thinking I could make a change…but the government decides everything, they…take away, everything.”

Aemilia sat there silently, listening to the mayor’s monologue.

“That obelisk right there is a perfect reminder of it. The royal government decides on all these things, they make decisions _for_ us, at the cost of _us_ ,” she went on, shaking her head.

“But you, you remind me of when I was younger,” she continued, turning back to the young woman. She inhaled deeply.

“I will do it. I’ll help you, for my sons, my husband, for the people of Trost – for all of us. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it,” the mayor stated, eyes becoming alive again with determination.

The corners of the younger woman’s lips turned up in a light smile.

“Do you think you’ll be able to write a few letters, mayor? And please, call me Aemilia.”

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to throw in a little something from Erwin's perspective, because I was getting annoyed with myself lol. The story will most probably still be mainly from Aemilia's / narrator's perspective though. Please leave comments, kudo's <3


	5. Bonfire

“Hurry up guys, I don’t want to be late!”

“Yes-sir,” Aemilia quipped, quickening her pace at the command of her bar-owning friend as she carried a case of wine bottles in her arms towards the wagon in front of Jade’s bar.

As she hastily headed for the vehicle, she missed a slippery cobble-stone, the crate of wine obstructing her view of the street. Her foot slid out unexpectedly, forcing her to make a jerking motion out of reflex. She almost dropped the wooden crate she was carrying, but a strong arm from behind caught her around her waist just in time to prevent her from actually falling down.

Oliver.

“Careful, journalist,” he said jokingly.

The woman shot him a disapproving look. “What did I say about that nickname?” she retorted, “…but thank you,” she quickly added.

“Need help?”

“Don’t you have your own task?” she asked, but her eyes soon found his wagon already filled with barrels of beers as he was assigned to do. _Of course_.

“I finished already. I can help y–”

“No, we’re fine,” she answered dismissively, resuming her way.

“But…” he replied questioningly, pointing his thumb over his shoulder to the ten cases in the storage room still waiting to be transferred to the other wagon.

“We can do that ourselves, really.”

“I know, but it’d be faster if I–”

“Stop rubbing your physical strength in our faces, Ollie,” she answered, looking back over her shoulder at the young male with a scowl, though the slight upward curve of the corners of her lips betrayed she meant it only in jest.

Still, the young man scratched behind his head awkwardly, not entirely sure what or how to respond to that.

“Stop being stubborn, Amy,” Jade called from inside the storage room. “Ollie, your help would be very much appreciated so we don’t miss the speech,” she said, shooting Aemilia a look as she emerged from the storage room with a crate herself. “We’re in a time crunch remember?”

“Well…you heard the boss,” Aemilia said in defeat, “you may help us.”

With the assistance of the young farmer, they finished loading up the wagon in no time, since he was able to effortlessly carry two crates at a time. He most probably could have carried more at once – at least weight-wise – Aemilia realized, and she had to stifle a laugh at this odd form of consideration for her, knowing he probably purposely left some work for her. 

She climbed into the vehicle after putting the last crate into the wagon, while Jade took her seat opposite her. They gave a wave at Oliver, who went to sit in the other wagon to watch over the barrels of beer as they’d ride just outside of the northern wall of Trost District, where the New Year’s Eve bonfire would be lit.

As soon as the wagon started moving, Jade leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Hey, did you get to ask Ollie about the journal yet?”

Aemilia shook her head, peering at the male who rode in the wagon before them. “He and his father have their own situation to worry about. I’d like to focus on that first.”

The female facing her nodded in understanding, glancing at the coachman before inching a little closer. “Do you think you have a high chance of succeeding with your plan?”

Aemilia gazed at the wobbling wine bottles in the crate beside her, the thick glass rattling softly. She hadn’t thought in terms of “chances” or “percentages” or “probabilities”, only in sheer necessity.

It had been three weeks since she had visited the mayor, and a week since she had received her reply. It was positive, but it was only the first step, and she had been most confident about this very first phase. Tonight she’d find out whether the next step would be successful too. If her instincts were right, however, it would be.

“It simply must.”

“But what if it doesn’t?”

She lifted her eyes back up to her companion, the flames of the torch on the corner of the wagon reflecting in her eyes. “It’s not an option.”

***

After readying the temporary stand from which Jade would serve beer and wine tonight, Aemilia strolled around the open area, waiting for the mayor’s speech to commence.

A biting breeze of cold winter air hit her, making her pull up her scarf a little higher to cover her nose from the harsh chilliness. Here in the open, the winter cold was even more brutal, especially with the bonfire not being lit yet.

Around her, kids were playing in the snowy fields: here, two boys carrying handfuls of snow as they chased another one, threatening to rub his face with it; over there a number of girls were shrieking as a group of boys threw balls of snow at them. It reminded her of her own childhood years during the winter, how Oliver would show her patiently how to make the perfect snowball as they teamed up against her brother, who would boast he’d win on his own anyway as he was the oldest.

She shook her head as an involuntary chuckle rose up her throat, amused by the fond memory. How annoyed she’d be at his arrogance then, how much she missed that boldness now.

With her eyes she followed the children, wondering whether they lived on the nearby farms like Oliver, whether they knew the government planned on taking their homes. Right now they seemed so carefree – just as children should be.

Although she had just expressed her confidence to Jade, she did wonder whether the commander of the Scouting Legion would show up tonight at her written request, considering the letter she had sent him was rather brief and she couldn’t even be sure if he had read it yet. If he hadn’t, she’d find another way though.

A hand on her shoulder shook her from her thoughts. For a split-second she had thought it was the commander, but of course it would have been near to impossible if he had known who she was without a previous meeting. When she turned around, she was met with her grandmother’s eyes instead.

“Here,” she said, offering the young woman a cup with red wine, who accepted the cup with gratitude.

“The speech is about to start, shall we find the Bärs?” Grandma asked.

She spotted Oliver and Mr. Bär right at the front of the half-circle before the pyre, and led Grandma and herself through the crowd to stand beside the male duo.

Conversations fell down to whispers as the mayor took her place in between the pyre and the crowd of civilians. The way the woman looked at the faces around her with a kind smile on her face seemed so…motherly to the young journalist, and it filled her with awe and heartache at the same time, for she knew the tragedy the woman had experienced. She wondered how many people among the present crowd had suffered a similar loss, or even worse – if such a thing was possible.

“Dear citizens of Trost, and of towns nearby, welcome at 847’s New Year’s Bonfire. The end of the year is the time to reflect and to re-evaluate the past year, and to make resolutions for the next. While I did so for myself, it is my duty as your mayor not only to think about myself, but especially about your conditions and your safety. I am asking all of you, to have faith in me, while I am working at bettering our District. I also urge you, to connect with one another in the new year, or even tonight, for friends are nearer than one may think,” the mayor paused ever so briefly, glancing at Aemilia for a moment, who offered a friendly smile in acknowledgement in return.

Her grandmother beside her gave her hand a squeeze. Considering she hadn’t informed her about her meeting with the mayor – nor her plans in general – she figured Grandma simply reacted to the mayor’s encouragement to seek connection. She tightened her clutch momentarily in return as a reassuring gesture.

She couldn’t help but let her eyes quickly scan the crowd as far as they could see in the dark. _He’s not here yet_ , she thought to herself. She was unable to ruminate her thoughts though, for the mayor announced it was time for everyone to make their New Year’s wishes and resolutions.

“Now, as always, please make your wish before we ignite the fire.”

Aemilia glanced at Oliver and his father on the other side of her, both of whom already had their eyes closed. She did the same then, inhaling deeply before releasing the air through her nose as she made her wish. It was the same one as last year, and the year before. Although now, she had to add something: she wished that Oliver and Mr. Bär would retain their land and live peacefully.

The mayor was handed a torch, which she used to light the pyre. The flames rose quickly, licking the night-sky eagerly as sparking particles erupted from the branches.

Aemilia soon found herself being hypnotized by the blazing fire: not just the sight, but the sound of the crackling branches, the smell of burning wood, the heat – she welcomed it all gratefully, soaking it up with her senses.

Her grandmother and Mr. Bär excused themselves to get new drinks, while she and Oliver remained at the fire, side by side, enjoying the bonfire’s warmth and its cathartic effect. In the background she heard band members starting a tune with string instruments.

A familiar female voice broke her from her trance. “Aemilia, it’s good to see you again.”

She turned to see the mayor behind her. “Likewise, Mayor,” she replied with a genuine smile adorning her face. “Mayor Blume, I owe you much gratitude for helping me out with the letters.”

“Please, thank me later once we know for sure whether it worked. But tell me, who is this wonderful young man with you?”

“This is Oliver Bär. He and his dad own a farm nearby.”

“Ah, I see…We are doing our very best to help you, Oliver,” the mayor said as she looked up at the tall man, placing a reassuring hand on the side of his upper arm.

“Thank you, Mayor.”

“For now, please enjoy the rest of the evening,” the mayor spoke, turning to Aemilia once more. “I’m sure it won’t be difficult with this handsome young man in your company,” she spoke with a hint of a sly smile as she nodded towards Oliver.

Aemilia only realized the mayor assumed they were romantically involved when the older woman was already in conversation with someone else. She looked up to her friend, whose cheeks were stained by a blush even the dark night couldn’t hide. _Always so easily embarrassed._ The corners of her lips curled up in an amused smile at his awkwardness.

“Come, let’s go get more drinks,” she said after finishing the last sip of her wine, grabbing her flustered friend by the arm to guide them through the crowd towards Jade, who was busily serving customers behind her stand. She made a gesture to the duo that they could help themselves.

“Ah, the perks of having a bar-owner as a friend,” Aemilia joked to Oliver, who absentmindedly reacted with half a smile.

After fetching him a beer and herself another cup of red wine, they found their way back close to the fire, its pleasant warmth embracing them. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, watching him for a while. He hadn’t taken a sip of his beer yet, and he seemed silent tonight. Not that he had ever been a boisterous individual, but she noticed he appeared more quiet after the encounter with the mayor.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked, sipping from her cup slowly as she kept her eyes on him, the red alcohol staining her lips before she licked it away. “Is the beer not good?” she joked.

He blinked at her, awakening from his thoughts, before finally taking a sip. “No, it’s fine,” he replied, though his smile seemed halfhearted.

“Then what is it?” she pressed on.

“I was just wondering…”, he started slowly, “how did you get her on your side? I thought the District Mayors are appointed by the royal government.”

“They are, but…we found common ground,” she replied simply, considering it was the best way to summarize the conversation that had taken place in the Mayor’s office a few weeks ago.

He nodded in understanding, although she could see he was still mulling over something by the way he bit his lip in thought.

“What is it?” she inquired, turning her body towards him now.

He stopped his lip-biting almost immediately to replace it with a fake smile, one she could so easily discern, and she wondered why he even tried this with her.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Come on, we’ve played this game a thousand times and I win it a thousand-and-one times. Spit it out.”

“This plan of yours…isn’t it dangerous?”

She tilted her head to the side a little. “I’m not doing anything against the law.”

“I know, but people get arrested for the tiniest of things. I just, I…”

A frown settled on her brow as she watched the young man looking for words, swirling the beer around in his wooden mug as if he’d find them there.

“Do you not trust me?”

His eyes flit back up at hers at the sudden question. “Of course I do, but I don’t trust _them_ , and I…”

She kept her gaze fixed on him, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

“I don’t want anything bad happen to you.”

“I don’t want that either,” she answered jokingly in an attempt to lighten up the mood, but her friend ran a hand through his wavy hair – his trademark gesture when he was exasperated – as he diverted his eyes to gaze back into the flames.

The look of embarrassment earlier had long been gone, replaced by one of worry instead. It wasn’t like him to become upset so quickly, and she realized then that he must have felt genuinely troubled. _Why was he expressing this_ now _?_

She kept her gaze on him, wanting him to redirect his own back to her. He, however, lowered his eyes to the drink in his cup, eyebrows drawn together.

She saw his Adam’s apple bob when he swallowed before finally replying. “Amy, I promised Alex.”

Goosebumps formed instantly on her arms at the mention of her brother’s name. It’s not like she hadn’t realized Oliver had probably made some pact with her brother before he left that he’d watch over her, but it was the first time he said it out loud and it somehow stirred her more than she had expected.

“I get that, Ollie, I do, but I myself promised to help you and your dad, didn’t I?”

She placed her hand on his upper arm, forcing him to turn himself towards her so she could look at him directly. “Hey, have a little faith, okay?”

He nodded reluctantly before taking a big gulp of beer, the cloud of worry on his face slowly dissolving as he let the words sink in. “Alright then, since you so stubbornly insist,” he finally answered, a smirk gradually growing on his features.

Normally she would reproach him for calling her stubborn, but tonight she let it slide, happy he was at least smiling again.

They were able to have light conversations for the rest of the night, reminiscing about the past and making jokes. Aemilia couldn’t suppress the urge to tease him a bit, asking him whether there was someone who had caught his eye yet, pointing to different women among the crowd.

“What about her?” she asked with a smirk, nodding towards a woman dancing ridiculously with two of her friends.

He let out a breathy laugh. “Stop it.”

Her eyes scanned the crowd again, looking for another female to match with Oliver, but then she suddenly saw him.

The commander.

Her breath paused for a single moment when her eyes fell on him: she almost thought he wouldn’t come when she didn’t see him anywhere during the speech nor for the majority of the night, but she was glad to find he finally did.

He stood in front of the fire, his presence conspicuous due to his fixed pose, a stark contrast to the dancing civilians around him.

He wasn’t in uniform, but she still recognized him easily. Blonde hair neatly combed in a side-part, and eyes of ice appearing coolly even in the warm glow of the bonfire, his expression impassive as the other times she had seen him at ceremonies or other state-related events. She wasn’t sure whether this stoic countenance among all those smiling faces was what had caught her attention, or his poise, which was somehow different from the other men present.

She excused herself from Oliver, straightening her back as she crossed the distance between the commander and herself. He was staring into the flames with his hands behind his back as Aemilia traversed the few meters between them. He looked up when he noticed her approaching.

“Commander Smith,” she addressed him formally. “I’m pleased to see you came.”

“Miss Taube, I assume,” he replied matter-of-factly.

“Correct,” she answered, offering a leather-gloved hand which he shook with his large, bare hand.

“I’ve received your letter in good order.”

“Good. Thank you for meeting me here. I thought it faster than written correspondence – perhaps safer too.”

He gave a nod, showing his agreement. “So, miss Taube, would you please enlighten me on the plan you referred to in your letter?”

“Of course, though perhaps somewhere a little less crowded,” she suggested, gesturing for him to follow her away from the noise and mass of people around the bonfire.

She didn’t notice Oliver’s eyes following her and the commander intently as they moved away from the fire.

They paused some distance away from the crowd where they wouldn’t have to raise their voice or have drunk people bumping into them.

While she expounded her plan, the tall blonde never broke his gaze at her. In her subconscious she acknowledged his unbroken stare, noting the intensity of his eyes, but she didn’t let it interrupt her monologue.

When she finished explaining her strategy, the commander looked away into the distance and remained silent for a few moments, seeming to ponder over her plan in his mind.

“Yes…it might work.”

“If my intuition about our rulers are right, I believe it will work.”

“Your intuition?” he questioned, returning his gaze to hers.

She paused for a moment before answering, looking for the right words. She did not know this man, so she supposed she needed to take some caution – though she somehow felt they were on the same page. “People tend to comply easily when you know their weak spots,” she spoke, her tone serious as she looked the commander directly in his eyes.

“…and I’m quite confident I found theirs,” she continued. “You, on the other hand, still seem reluctant somehow about my suggested plan.”

“No, not reluctant, but I am rather curious as to why you’re going through all this effort. It is not without risk,” he spoke, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly at his last words.

“I know it isn’t. Is it too hard to believe I simply think this will benefit everyone?”

“It is not,” he replied, his expression neutral, but she felt as if there was still something he wanted to know.

However, she was determined to get him on her side, and so she boldly held out her gloved hand again.

“So, Commander, what do you say?”

He took her hand once more in his.

“I say I look forward to our collaboration,” he replied.

“Good,” she responded, a light smile forming on her lips, “when shall we start?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) OMG I can’t believe it took me so long to have them meet. And their scene was so short too ☹ I don't even know how I managed to do that because since day one I've been wanting to write juicy scenes, but I guess the build-up is slower than I initially planned :')  
> 2) I hope this chapter wasn’t a drag – I wanted to try out some more lighthearted stuff at the beginning, and this time of year always has me feeling nostalgic, so that’s where the inspo came from. Leave comment if you can relate 😊 HAPPY NEW YEAR IN ADVANCE!


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